Come Back Someday
by KitschDoll
Summary: NaruGaara.Without the Jinchuuriki what are you now?  a bit of yaio and a touch of lime


I cannot think of a good reason why Misashi Kishimoto would be writing yaoi, can you? though it isn't really yaio cause I always associate that with explicit sex but I suppose it's close to as yaoi-y as you can get on money is being made due to publication of this story.

spoilers up to i forget which chapter of the manga and episode 32[? of the anime 

I don't think it's really non-cannon-fitting because it's just a moment in time that was skipped but it could be considered to be.

I also realise it's a touch[read: frightfully long winded but that's just how I write, or maybe it just seems long winded to me causeIi wrote it and reading through it a million times makes it seem like it goes on forever.

reviews appreciated but not required, I assume if you have something you really want to say you'll say it without being begged to.

**Come Back Someday.**

Night drew its curtain across Suna with a sigh of settling dust and a cold embrace like ice. Dim stars whirled in the black cloudless sky while the rough sandstone of the city itself glowed with the cumulative heat of the day and the soft golden light that bathed the streets. Left to his own thoughts amid this peaceful night the Kazekage looked at his city and wondered. He was standing on the roof of his office looking out at his city wondering if the churning emptiness in his stomach was loneliness, grief or some strange sickness one got after nearly dying. He wanted to believe it was the latter option but doubted it, after reluctantly allowing that brightly coloured kunoichi who travelled with Naruto to look him over he knew he wasn't sick, not physically at least.

He sighed quietly and the sand around him stirred slightly in response to the chakra he subconsciously released. He half heartedly damned Naruto because until they met he'd never had to admit to myself how lonely he really was but now... He thought about the last few days and knew he was on more than a few levels grateful to Chiyo for saving him but the quiet depressing monologue in the back of his mind which he'd always associated with Shukaku reminded him of all the reasons it would've been better if he had died. He smiled a little inside at the irony that without the Shukaku to stop him it would be easy to kill himself like he'd tried so many times in the past but now that he could he found he had reasons to live. He had Suna to protect even if he wasn't nearly as strong without the demon. He had Kankuro and Temari who he was now capable of viewing as more than obstructions and had become quite precious to him.

Naruto...

He had Naruto's friendship, and while something about that was vaguely dissatisfying he'd spent the last three years trying to dwell on it as little as possible. Naruto... Indeed he was more grateful to Naruto than anyone else because he was the one and only very boisterous blonde who had literally beaten his stupidity out of him and shown him what it meant to be bonded to people. And yet, while they were friends and he was grateful for that there was something missing from their friendship. Perhaps it was the blonde's absence for these past years? He had on many occasions questioned how you could be friends with someone you had only come into contact with once or twice, despite how significant those few interactions had ended up being to them both.

Naruto...

If he could remember how to cry he thinks he would have after waking up to see Naruto standing over him, surrounded by the crowd of Suna Shinobi who'd come to help save him, even if they wouldn't have been in time, even if they would probably have not been powerful enough to save him from the Akatsuki they had come for him. That thought in particular caused the tightness in his stomach to climb up into his chest and give a little squeeze.

Naruto...

To say he hadn't been shocked to be woken up from the nightmarish visions of his own past he had experienced while he was dead would be a lie. To say his heart hadn't nearly jumped out of his chest and nearly caused him to embrace Naruto as the first solid piece of reality he saw upon waking would be a lie. To say the sound of his own name tinted with worry, and hope, and joy coming from Naruto's lips hadn't sent a thrill of longing through his whole body would be a bigger lie than he was capable of telling, especially to himself.

Naruto...

'Gaara.' Spears of sand whipped out and pinned the speaker to the roof by the wrists, ankles and neck before a second had passed. Gaara whipped around, turning his back on the horizon he'd been blankly staring at for who knows how long. His chest tightened painfully to see a dazed and slightly confused version of the person who had been occupying his mind pinned to the roof but he didn't release the blond as the sight of him splayed out like that looked oddly appealing to his eyes. He did a slight double-take at that thought and proceeded to dig around in his mind for why exactly that would be. He drew a blank but continued to stare in Naruto's general direction still vaguely searching for an explanation and completely oblivious to the fact that his captive was trying to get his attention until an indignant yell punched through his thoughts. Causing his eyes to widen slightly.

'GAARA!?!'

'Yes?'

'Damnit let me up, damn why the hell are you so jumpy.' His only reply was a blank shouldn't it be obvious look as the sand slid into deceptively useless piles on the roof, allowing the blonde to flip up onto his feet and begin pacing around the roof, full of energy as always. Naruto's smile seemed a little forced as his steps carried him back and forth. He kept pausing to meet Gaara's eyes before shying away and scratching the back of his head. The Kazekage's eyes narrowed at this uncharacteristic behaviour and he became concerned when the blonde visibly flinched after meeting his eyes.

'Are you unwell? Should I get the one who helped kill Sasori to examine you?'

'Sakura-chan?'

'If you say so.' He turned and was on his way too go find the medic when a hand grabbed his wrist to stop him before that hand became encased in sand.

'What the?!! I thought without the Shukaku you wouldn't have that shield of yours anymore?'

'Apparently you are mistaken.' The blonde's hand was freed from its casing abruptly causing him to fall over onto his arse where he sat scratching his head.

'Look, don't go get Sakura-chan. I'm not sick.'

'Alright.'

'What's on earth is up with you?'

'...'

'You just had that demon pulled out of you,' and Naruto's own hand unconsciously pressed against his own stomach at the thought. His eyes crinkled and furious, wanting and sad, desperate and scared looked up into bottomless eyes circled but untouched by black. Clear eyes no longer narrowed in hate and apathy like they had been all those years ago, absent was that hardness they had possessed and without it those orbs truly seemed to be those of the innocent child the young Kazekage never truly was.

There was silence before the orange Jinchuuriki jerked back trying to quash from his own eyes with his hand all the emotions which should have been, but weren't staring back at him from the eyes of the calm red head. Undeterred they leaked out, trailing along his palm, down his sleeves, along his neck, dripping off the ends of his fingers only to be absorbed by thirsty desert sand which unlike that in the gourd Gaara used to carry had never known the taste of blood. Silence roared loudly in his ears, taunting him, begging him, enticing him to speak: satisfied only when he managed to squeeze out, pausing to swallow after each sentence through the doubt choking his throat, what he feared to ask but hoped beyond hope this calm reflection before him could answer.

'The Kyuubi is part of me. What am I without it? I never knew what was in me for so long. Now that I know it's there how can I say I wouldn't be a different person without it.' He waited. He drew shakey breaths in a vain effort to calm himself. He crushed his palm harder into his eyes and studied the blurs it caused to avoid opening his eyes and finding no answer waiting for him. Raising his hand slightly and stared at the swirling blurs long enough to realise that he was alone on the roof.

He dropped his hands to his side dejectedly and pushed himself to his feet before shoving his hands and the sand ingrained into his palms deep into his pockets. _What does it matter, after a week in this village I wouldn't be surprised if there was even sand stuck in there with the Kyuubi._ A bitter laugh bubbled up from his throat and was whisked away by the wind in an increasingly gritty and brisk fashion. He turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin as his step bought him almost nose to nose with the spitting image of a Gaara he never expected to see again. Eyes narrowed in something that might've been anger: his hand snapped shut making the orange clad shinobi wish he'd jumped back when he had the chance and bringing back uncomfortable memories of the last time a sand coffin had nearly been his end.

The blonde closed his eyes and shook his blissfully still free head from side to side. _No! He wouldn't do this, he wouldn't kill me, what in all seven hells is he playing at._ Shock vanished and panic set in, thrashing his limbs in a vain struggle that was banished by pain and an uncomfortable flexing sensation in his right arm which wrung a hissed breath from clamped lips. He cracked open his eyes to nothing but a blur which resolved into an angry set of blue-green eyes uncomfortably close to his own.

'Right now I could crush the breath from your lungs and the blood from your body.' Silence followed this pronouncement but azure eyes wanted to flinch from the killing intent staring back at him.

'I could rip off this right arm of yours.' Gaara leaned forward and almost sang into his ear. The coffin pinched tighter around his right limb, drawing it out from his immobile body and holding it parallel to the ground. The blonde fought a wince as small particles of grit ground themselves into his skin pressing on nerves and drinking the blood from the wounds they caused.

Naruto never was one for fear, he could get out of his current predicament by force if necessary but he concluded, as his mind flashed back to the memory of a Chidori encased fist punched through his right lung accompanied by the ghost of pain which always hit him at the memory, he was reluctant to cause pain to others unless he was sure there was no other choice. Refocusing on the eyes in front of him he brushed aside his current pain because it was nothing compared to the pain of that day so many years ago.

'If I ripped off this arm of yours, what would you be without it?'

Azure eyes were in danger of slipping from their sockets, as they stared, shocked at the shoulder of the friend whose breath tickles his ear. If he wasn't encased in sand he thinks he would have shivered and fallen to his knees. Instead he remains still in silence for several long minutes as comprehension dawns upon him, he rolls his answer around in his mind using it like Chouji's 'meat tank' Jutsu to flatten his doubts. He wants to laugh at himself and lets his lips curve upwards, pinching his cheeks until he can't contain it any longer, forgetting his coffin, forgetting the pain in his arm he laughs until his throat dries out and the breath in his lungs starts to rasp, harsh with sand, against the back of his throat.

Calming himself he thinks he feels a slight huff of air that may of may not have been a laugh brush his neck before the red head removes his chin from the sand pillow stretched across a pair of wide shoulders. He's perplexed as the eyes brought once again to meet his still posses a slightly menacing frown of concentration but it's only sharp reflexes that save him and the weight now resting in his arms from pitching him backwards onto his arse again as the sand around him abruptly crumbles and a mop of red hair falls against his chest. A mop of red hair which is attached to a body that is just as tall but a bit slighter than his own and is currently gasping for air .

'Wow, looks like it's not me who needs to be visited by Sakura-chan.' His answer is delivered punctuated by gasps from the tense form whose heaving shoulders are supported from beneath only by the arms wrapped around its torso.

'No... just...Far too... litt...le Chakra... still... weak... too much.'

'I can tell, because if that wasn't the case I have a feeling there'd be a pile of sand supporting your heavy arse instead of me.' He joked light heartedly to ease any hints of awkwardness knowing that they were both people who for very similar reasons were unused to any physical contact. For reasons the smiling blonde possessed no inclination to explore the weight he supported in his arms was oddly comforting because it showed that the red head must trust him a hell of a lot otherwise said weight would have simply fallen down to sprawl out and recover on sandy roof of its own office.

Blue eyes softened as they gazed at the spiky looking curls reminiscent of heavily rusted steel under a dark sky and he reflected that Gaara was the perfect embodiment of his village because he glowed with a harsh intensity like the city itself with its warm limestone and yellow bricks. The head nestled against him turned slightly and he fought the urge to shift his hold and bring the man in his arms slightly closer. Time seemed to slow and stretch elongating itself into what could be hours and weeks for all the difference it would make, it contorted itself to fit his wish that this moment would last just a little longer. This closeness was comforting to him, it was warm, it was relaxing, it was comparable to walking back into his own still messy apartment after nearly 3 years away and dropping himself down to relax on a bed that, whilst coated in a thick layer of dust which once disturbed induced a coughing fit that returned to haunt him sporadically for the next several hours still made him smile because he was in a place that was completely and emphatically _his._

A smile stretched his lips further than he thought possible and he didn't dare move a muscle even though his fingers began to cramp around the fabric they gripped and his nose began to itch with a vengeance he remained utterly still because he couldn't bear to be the one to disturb this moment. This moment which caused his insides to literally melt in happiness and allowed him to ignore for a few moments the lead weight that had permanently lodged itself in his stomach since the day he woke up in the hospital and realised that he hadn't been able to save Sasuke and that he had failed Sakura. That day was the first since he saved Iruka-sensei from that bastard Mizuki that he had felt himself to be well and truly deadlast, worthless, a failure. But the leaden feeling was gone now replaced by the slightly odd, unfamiliar warmth of knowing that even in some small way he was helping someone he cared for. It was perplexing really because he had fought long and hard to bring Gaara back from the Akatsuki and surely that had been a much greater deed than stopping the former Jinchuuriki from falling on his face. Yet fighting for him didn't make him feel the same satisfaction as being here in the rapidly cooling night for him to lean on.

Gaara was the one who moved first. His breathing had slowed and he felt strong enough to drag his feet up and support his own weight for the most part. He almost regretfully removed his head from the completely silent, completely still form that was supporting his. He straightened his spine whilst gazing at his feet as though they held the answers to every question he'd ever needed an answer for.

He could practically _feel_ Naruto looking at him and mentally cursed for showing the man, whom he was more grateful to and respected more than any other, how weakened he was since the removal of the Shukaku. He cursed himself doubly for being too damn _comfortable_ to move sooner. The hands resting on his shoulder blades, after unclenching and flattening themselves against his back when he moved, did however not remove themselves. He waited for a few moments still intensely examining his feet which were bare and half covered by sand, yet still the hands remained; in fact it seemed as though those few minute shifts were the only movements the usually boisterous and exuberant blonde had made in the immeasurable amount of time it had taken for his breath to resume its normal pace. He had no idea what was going on, millions of thoughts raced through his head combining with the tiredness in his limbs to make him sway slightly on his feet. Reacting in a way he never had before mostly because he didn't recall spending this much time so close to anyone ever before, he buried his hands in the surprisingly soft, clean fabric covering Naruto's chest to steady himself. Still the blonde did not move.

Seconds stretched to minutes and the usually calm, almost unresponsive heart he possessed began to pull and tighten in his chest, he could feel the pulse of blood in his fingers, fingers, separated from the solid mass, which was once again supporting most of his weight, by only the barest layer of cloth. He was sure Naruto would be able to feel that pulse, and he was scared because he had no idea what it meant. There was an abrupt jolt of reality as the tips of the fingers on his back curled slightly pressing bluntly into his skin. Never before had he been so intensely aware of the skin on his back. Like the first time he was punch by that spandex clad fool during the preliminary matches of the Chuunin Exam he was overloaded with sensation. This was similar to the first time in that it was overwhelming but vastly different simply because it was not pain he was feeling.

Finally summoning the courage he raised his eyes slowly, noticing things he never had before as his gaze travelled upwards. He noted for the first time ever the nearly invisible dusting of not quite stubble on the neck and chin before him. His eyes pausing, _why?_ he's uncertain on grinning, lightly pink lips that were slightly rough looking and glistened with a tiny bit of moisture at their raised corners. Then in almost no time at all his bottomless eyes, no longer narrowed in concentration, met Naruto's which were no longer full of anger and sadness but instead widened slightly with wonder and a hint of seriousness. Now it was his turn to freeze in something close to fear as the blonde's right hand finally removed itself from his back.

It was truly in the style of _Konoha's Number One Most Unpredictable Ninja_ that this hand then proceeded to do nothing more or less momentous than scratch its proprietors nose thoroughly. Gaara then continued to stare somewhat dazedly at this hand, in particular at the thumb of this hand, moving slower than he thought the Blond even knew how to as it reached out to gently graze the corner of his mouth.

In a somewhat conflicting manner the former Jinchuuriki was incredibly, uncomfortably and somewhat irritatingly aware of everything in his surroundings whilst still being able to see nothing but the look of concentration on a face, which may or may not have moved a tiny bit closer than before, closer to his own. There was the light wind which carried the smell of a kitchen somewhere, the hint of a blunt nail which was now tracing his top lip, the sigh of sand around his toes, a whisper of breath on his cheek, the almost invisible scent of sweat and an unfamiliar berry that came from the blonde, the rasp of a pair of sandalled feet somewhere a few stories down, a tiny shift of limbs which seemed to bring them immeasurably closer together, the dissonant crash of someone dropping something ceramic, the puffed out zipper of Naruto's shirt against the loose dark cotton one he himself wore.

Then his tightly wound nerves could take it no more, he practically ached for the closeness of the form in front of him so badly that even though he was uncertain about exactly what he should be doing he did it anyway. Moving suddenly he shifted his face causing Naruto's hand to drop in surprise and slid his own quickly over shoulders cloaked in heavy cotton before burying them in the ever so slightly oily and tangled hair on the blonds head. He tilted his head to the right a little and pressed his lips softly and slowly against the ever so slightly roughened ones in front of him. There was a pause then, long enough to almost be awkward as they reached the end of Gaara's expertise in kissing but it was broken when Naruto smirked against his mouth and began to practically boil with suppressed energy as his level of exuberance returned to normal. The Jinchuuriki opened his mouth slightly and carefully licked the lips pressed to his until they hesitantly opened. Their tongues slid into each others mouths and like a broken flood bank their pace and force leapt to dangerous heights.

It wasn't the best, it was fast and rough and slightly awkward as Naruto pressed Gaara's torso uncomfortably close and Gaara's rough broken nails pulled on blonde hair hard enough to elicit a pained murmur. It didn't matter to either of them however, they had both been alone for a long time, they were both unused to most of the sensations of physical closeness that others took for granted so they clung tightly together and let themselves drown in the sheer force of their mutual need.

The Kazekage opened his eyes in shock, _when did he closed them anyway?_ as the roughly skinned fingers of the man in front of him came in contact with the bare skin at his sides, teasingly raising and lowering the hem of his shirt before pushing ever so slightly under the tight strap of cloth that held up his pants, though it was a tantalising and thoroughly pleasing sensation it had broken through the maelstrom of his thoughts causing them to focus on the one train of thought he didn't want to consider.

He panicked; he did the one thing he didn't want to do. He pushed the blond away and gripped his temples expecting to assaulted with insults precisely aimed at his weakest points by the demonic entity in his mind. They never came so he raised wide eyes to look at the slightly more than usually dishevelled and confused Shinobi in front of him. In accordance with his normally taciturn nature the red head chose silence over words. Unfortunately - _fortunately?_ for both of them Naruto was anything but taciturn

'What are you doing?!' The blond's words caused a rare wave of anger spiced with a twisting defensive anguish to over whelm his control and goad a response from usually sealed lips.

'"_What am I doing"_ what are you doing?'

'I wasn't doing anything!'

'Like hell you weren't! _You_ kissed me.' _why the hell did I stop_

'Like hell I _did!_ I distinctly recall you kissing me.'

'...'

'Oh no you don't tell me why!'

'Because I wanted to, fuck, I don't know, just leave it b...' The uncertain redhead's voice faded to silence on the last syllable as he tried to figure out some sort of way to take back his words without seeming to care too much.

"Oh. Ah. I have to go. It's late. Big day tomorrow. Big day. Got to go back to Konaha." Gaara nearly fell over when Naruto began to walk away but restrained himself. He was Numb and heavy and confused but he was not weak. He simply stared blankly and waited until Naruto's forcibly unhurried walk and awkward whistle disappeared down the stairs.

He turned around then to a completely black sky and for the first time since he killed Yashamaru he wishes he could remember how to cry.

When the time came to say goodbye neither he nor Naruto seemed to be sure what to do so he shook his hand and hoped Naruto knew what his smile meant.

_Goodbye, good luck, I want you to come back someday._


End file.
